


Lover, When You See That Glare (Think of It as My Embrace of You)

by stardustgirl



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (I’m more of a Roman mythology nerd myself but we all know where the romans got it from lol), Angst, Character Death, Depa Billaba Is Kanan Jarrus’s Mom, Empress Padmé Amidala, Experimental Style, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hera Syndulla Needs A Hug, Hera Syndulla-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Hadestown, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Kanan Jarrus Needs a Hug, Kanan Jarrus-centric, Kanera Week, Kanera Week 2020, Medium Angst, Possessive Anakin Skywalker, Protective Anakin Skywalker, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Song Lyrics, Tragedy, Young Love, and obi-wan is his dad :), not sure if that’ll actually come up a WHOLE lot but you know, they fall fast and they fall hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: Caleb is working on a song to fix what’s wrong.  Hera is searching for a way to feel alive.”You’re early.”Padmé and Anakin?  They’re just trying to figure out a way to deal with their relationship that won’t sabotage the rest of the world with it.”I missed you.”
Relationships: Depa Billaba/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hera Syndulla & Okadiah Garson, Kanan Jarrus & Okadiah Garson, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Kanera Week 2020





	Lover, When You See That Glare (Think of It as My Embrace of You)

**Author's Note:**

> OOP just a heads up this style is ,, very uhhh lyrical ig? idk but
> 
> Prompt fill for Day 3 of Kanera Week, “song inspired.”

On the road to hell, there was a railroad line.

And on that road, there were three gods, all dressed the same, all determiners of the same, and _always_ a constant presence in the back of your mind: the Fates.

And on that road, there were two more gods, as opposite as any couple there ever was. Fitting, then, that she should leave him for half the year.

And on that road, there was a final god, nearly forgotten; god of messages and god of travelers; it was fitting, in a way, that he ran the station for that train.

Not everyone on that road was a god, however. As hard as times were in the world of men, they persisted. A poor boy, working on a song all day long; his father one of the gods of old and his mother a muse like her dear child. He was still left to the care of that stationkeeper (hard times persist in every world, child, not only in the world of men).

And, beside that boy, a girl, seeking out whatever warmth remained in this world of men.

And thus begins our tragedy.

* * *

She’s searching the posted ticket prices at the train station, trying to find one that isn’t too much, when he approaches her.

“Come home with me,” he says by way of introduction.

Hera whirls, gaze already doubtful. “Who are you?” she questions. The young man doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would typically be approaching her like this, though they rarely do.

“The man who’s gonna marry you. I’m Caleb.”

She turns to the older man next to him, brow shooting up. “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” the man sighs.

“...Hera,” she finally replies, something telling her that he genuinely doesn’t mean her any harm. Maybe he’s just...awkward.

 _Extremely_ awkward.

“Your name is like a melody,” Caleb breathes, and Hera raises a doubtful eyebrow.

“A singer, then. That’s what you are?”

“I also, ah, play the lyre, or well, sort of? It’s– it’s a guitar,” he stammers, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks. Hera can’t help the fleeting thought that _it’s surprisingly cute._ She shoves the thought away, though. She needs to leave; she doesn’t need anything—or any _one—_ else tying her to this town.

“Oh, a liar _and_ a player too! I’ve known too many men like you.” She moves to step away, but he takes a step closer. No grabbing at her hand, no physical block, just a step in her own footsteps. _That’s a first._

“I’m not like that,” Caleb protests, gaze earnest. The older man behind him takes a step after him as well.

“He’s not like any man you’ve ever met.” Turning to Caleb, he adds, “Tell her what you’re working on.”

“I’m working on a song. But it’s not finished yet, so I can’t show you, sorry.” She likes the way his eyes light up at the mention of his song. Maybe he won’t be so bad after all. “But when it’s done? Spring will come again.”

“Come again?” Hera says, unsure she heard correctly.

“Spring will come. Again.”

Spring. She hasn’t heard that word used in anything but “I wish Spring…” and “where is she…” and many more variations in _ages._

“When?” she breathes. “I haven’t seen a Spring _or_ Fall since...I don’t remember.”

“That’s what I’m working on: a song to fix what’s wrong!” Caleb replies, eyes shining. “Take what’s broken, make it whole, a song that’s so beautiful that Spring will have no choice _but_ to come again.”

Hera smiles. She thinks she might like this boy after all.

* * *

Caleb leans against a tree, and she’s laying with her head in his lap as he strums his guitar absently.

“Tell me about your song again?” she murmurs.

“A song so beautiful that it brings the world back into tune, and all the flowers will bloom, and...you’ll become my wife?” he adds, hesitantly.

She sits up halfway, glancing at him. “You’re _crazy,_ ” she smiles. “Why would I become your wife?”

He hums, a soft smile on his face as he brushes a strand of hair off of her face. “Maybe because I’ll make you feel _alive._ ”

She kisses him, softly, and pulls back just enough to see his gaze locked with hers. “Alive? That’s worth a lot in these times. What else you got?”

In answer, he kisses her back, and the growing summer heat feels just a little more bearable.

* * *

Okadiah is poor, and so is his ward, Caleb. Hera does not mind. She, too, is poor. And yet, despite that, they open a room to her at the station.

She marries Caleb soon after.

And, for a while, despite the summer heat, they find happiness together.

* * *

Soon after the wedding, the heat begins to edge away. The days get colder, and one day, Caleb wakes to frost on the tracks.

He works longer on the song that night than he has before.

The faint thunder accompanied by a shrill whistle piercing the air the next morning drags him from his work, and he leaves their apartment and heads downstairs. Okadiah must already be outside, and Hera too, because he sees neither of them. He debates grabbing a coat, ultimately deciding against it and slipping out without one.

Caleb reaches the edge of the crowded platform beside Hera just in time to watch as a train—as _the_ train—rolls into the station. He searches for Hera’s hand, squeezing it lightly upon finding it in an effort to provide reassurance—though whether it’s for his sake or for hers, he has no clue.

“Oh, come on! That was _not_ six months,” he hears a woman mutter under her breath.

“Who’s she waiting for?” Hera asks.

Caleb opens his mouth to respond, but Okadiah’s voice cuts him off. “Skywalker is a harsh boss, what with his silver whistle and golden scale. He runs a dog eat dog world down there.”

“An eye for an eye,” someone nearby agrees, and Caleb nods.

Hera’s brow furrows. “He’s the one they sell their souls to, then?”

“Mhm. The King on the Chromium Throne,” Caleb answers. “They say if you go down there, and you had any hopes and dreams—“

“—then you’d better forget about your wishing well, darling,” Okadiah finishes. Hera’s lips press together into a thin line.

The train before them slides to a full stop, wheels screeching, and the door of the car nearest them opens. A tall man with dark hair and a scar Caleb would recognize anywhere steps out.

“You’re early,” Padmé calls. She is their spring, their summer, their fall, their sun— _she_ is the one his song will bring back. Yet, still, her departure hurts just as much as it always does.

He can feel Hera suck in a breath next to him. _The song is almost finished,_ he reminds himself. _She’ll come back when we sing it._

“I missed you,” Anakin replies, voice still the same coarse-edged blade it’s always been from the underworld’s touch. _He_ is the one who takes their sun every year, the one they all fear for all they love his wife.

“You ever wonder what that’d feel like?”

He glances down at Hera, brow furrowing. “What _what_ would feel like?”

She nods to Anakin as he raises Padmé’s hand, kissing the back of it. She raises an eyebrow, turning stiffly away from him and back to the crowd that’s gathered. “Being the king of the underworld, making deals...seems like he owns everything.”

Caleb hums in acknowledgment, only to jump as Okadiah’s shout from Hera’s other side startles him.

“All aboard! Train leaves in two minutes!”

Padmé offers a parting wave before embarking on the train, carrying the last of the summer with her. Anakin’s dark gaze roves the crowd behind, and then he follows her in.

The door of the car shuts behind them, and Caleb can feel the cold instantly.

“Let’s go,” he mutters as the train begins its gradual ascent from crawl to run. “It’s too cold out now.”

Hera agrees quietly, leaning into his side as he hugs her tight. The crowd disperses, and they return to the small apartment, too.

Caleb glances out the window about a half hour after they return inside, only to see that Okadiah still waits on the platform, periodically checking his timepiece.

 _They won’t come back,_ he wants to say, but that would mean admitting it to himself as well.

He pushes his sighs away and returns to the song.


End file.
